Another Day
by Furyan Goddess
Summary: It's just another day but in a moment of violence, everything is shattered.


Author: Furyan Goddess  
Title: Another Day  
Rating: R  
Fandom: K-Ville  
Warning: Blood, violence, language.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Trevor Cobb or anything from K-Ville  
Pairing: Trevor/OFC  
Summary: It's just another day but in a moment of violence, everything is shattered.  
Feedback: Yes please. This is the first thing I've written for myself in a LONG time.  
Archive: No thank you  
Author's Notes: Thanks to Elaine for beta and Cyren for re-awaking Trevor up inside of my heart and head. I do love me some Trevor *sigh*

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Cuts and bruises, they heal. Bullet holes and broken bones take a bit longer, but it's the emotional wounds that stick with you for a long time. They're the ones that keep you up at night, when everyone else is sleeping. The ones that make you bolt up straight in bed, covered in a cold sweat with your heart in your throat.

Emotional scars can be your own, or someone else close to you. The ones I'm talking about, the ones that keep me up, they ain't mine. Still, every night I lose sleep because of them.

Being a cop, you learn to to deal with the fact that any given day you can get shot, that it could be your last. You rely on your partner. They become your friend, your confidant. They see you at your best and at your worst. Blood and sweat, back to back you stand, and if you're lucky, live to see another day.

The explosion came out of nowhere. One moment it was quiet and calm, the next it was all fiery light and the popping sound of gunfire. Duck and cover as you look around and try to make sense out of what the fuck is going on. Who is shooting? Why? And at who? You? Someone else? Check your partner, yourself, make sure you're both still in once piece. Pull your gun, try to find something, someone to aim at. Try to stop the violence with more. One shot, that's all it would take to end it.

One pop and it's over. Nothing left but the sound of fire and alarms, of screams. The bitter scent of smoke and the clean smell of water, but under it all, you catch the whiff of blood. Yours? No, you checked, someone else's? Victims.

You call it in as you make your way over to your partner, it all happened so fast. Too fast. One second you're shoveling food in your face because you haven't had a chance to eat in a half of a day, the next it's all gone to shit.

Only now you realize that the blood you smell is your partner's. You blink and look, really look at her and see it all too clear. Cuts, some gushing blood, some just weeping, but there are so many cuts. Her eye is bruised and already swollen shut leaving you with only one brown, panicked eye to stare at.

Blink again, run your hands over her and they come away sticky and red. "Shit." She's hit but you can't see how bad. Rip her shirt open, apply pressure. You don't take the time to notice her bra even though you've spent the last three months fantasizing about it.

Shoulder wound, above the heart. Through and through. It's clean, the blood running is making sure of that. Yank off your own shirt, use it to stem the flow as you scream for help. Officer down! Officer down!

Minutes stretch into hours as you wait for the ambulance to make its way there. Too much crime and too much violence to keep up with, not enough warm bodies.

Whispered words, assurances that she'll be ok. The look in her eye says she believes you when you know you failed her in the first place. You should have been more aware, should have sensed the danger and protected her. All your fault.

Someone grabs you from behind and tries to pull you off. You fight for a second, unwilling to let her go, to put her life in someone else's hands, then your head clears and you know it's for the best. They know better than you how to save her.

You step back, shove your blood soaked hands in your hair as you fight to breathe and blink away tears. So much to do. Secure the crime scene, make your statement. Write it up. Paper work and debriefings but all you want to do is be at her side. Ride with her to the hospital and hold her hand as they patch her back up.

More cops show up, start asking questions, taking control as you try not to fall apart. Your partner is down. One of your own is down. Everyone's scared and worried but none of them can understand the torment you have gnawing at your belly.

Try to work the scene but you keep turning you head to the last place you saw her as she was being loaded into the ambulance.

Time comes to a screeching halt as your mind is split in two. Half on the job, half with her. All you want to do is make sure she's ok. Pull her into your arms and keep her safe.

After an eternity, you're dismissed because Captain can tell, you ain't worth a shit anymore. Tired from the job, exhausted from the worry. You jump in the cruiser that you and your partner use and catch a whiff of her shampoo. Pain laces your heart and you lose your breath for a moment.

Full lights and sirens, even though you ain't on a call. You don't care if you're breaking the law when you took an oath to uphold it. All that matters now is getting to her and seeing her face, seeing if she's really going to be ok.

Out of surgery. Wound is clean, but they have to keep an eye on infection. All other wounds are superficial. A few stitches here and there but the rest are left open to the air to heal.

She's sleeping off the last of the anesthetic and you plop down heavy in the chair beside the bed. It's hard and cracked, uncomfortable as hell but you're out the moment your head hits the bed as you hold her cool hand in yours.

The blood's gone now, clean and bandaged, but scars will remain to tell the tale. Today, you both got lucky, today one of you got shot, but still lived to see another day.

It's her first day back and a lot has changed. I'm more watchful now, more protective. She's a little more wary. She can deny it all she wants but I see it in her eyes.

Things have changed between us, we've gotten closer. When I wake with nightmares, she holds me until they've faded and I do the same for her.

When we wake and dress for work, it's almost somber because we know today can be just another day or it could be the worst day of our lives.


End file.
